


i see your monsters

by tobeconvincedoflove



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Oh wait, Whipping, again i'm too lazy to edit this, also courfeyrac definitely ships them, enjolras is kind of blind, grantaire and enjolras aren't a couple in this but they should be, mutant AU, weird schmoopy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconvincedoflove/pseuds/tobeconvincedoflove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes them a year to get Enjolras back from the government. When they do, they also find a mutant whose only power is to take away the power of other mutations (temporarily).</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see your monsters

It takes them a year to find Enjolras after the government took him. Before it had happened, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they found out he had mutations; the sign language and sunglasses were always suspicious. And with his powers growing as he became an adult… no matter how careful Les Amis were, Enjolras was going to be found out eventually.

It was easier for the others, because they could control what they were doing. Enjolras’s mutation was the most powerful, no one argued that, but he would never use it. The idea that whatever he said everyone had to listen to (and obeyed if it was an order) and that his eyes literally hypnotized people made the sixteen-year-old sick to his stomach. Considering he had no freedom as a mutant, taking away someone else’s most basic human rights made it hard for Enjolras to exist sometimes.

But Enjolras before he was taken was nothing compared to him after. When Combeferre and Courfeyrac had burst into the solitary confinement room/lab they knew their friend was being held in (after Courfeyrac had burnt down the door with an angry gaze), they had no idea what to expect. Enjolras chained to a whipping post with a bloody back was not it. 

Now, Combeferre generally had a perfect grip on his mind reading/controlling abilities, but seeing someone he considered a brother in that state set something off, and in an instant all of the scientists standing around Enjolras dropped dead. But Enjolras didn’t move, didn’t make one whimper or one recognition that anything was different. 

“Tell the others we found him, and to get as many of the others out as they can,” Courfeyrac reminded Combeferre as they both rushed to free Enjolras. They couldn’t see his face, but the blonde curls and short (but lean and strong) frame could only belong to the sixteen (now seventeen) year-old they’d lost in a crowd almost thirteen months ago. 

“Just sent it out. Help me with these damn cuffs,” Combeferre said in Courfeyrac’s head, moving to free Enjolras’s hands, but as soon as his skin brushed against Enjolras, the blond started flailing. That was when Combeferre got his first look at Enjolras’s face. There was a blindfold tied tight over his eyes (and was stained with blood that looked horrifyingly new), but it was his mouth that scared Combeferre… it was sewn shut. 

“Enjolras!” a new voice called, and Combeferre saw a flash of dark curls and scrubs that matched Enjolras’s before hands were cupping the blond’s face in his hands, and Combeferre watched as Enjolras calmed instantly, now-free hands reaching to grip the other boy’s. “You know these two, they’re your best friends. You told me about them, remember?” Hesitantly, Enjolras nodded. “I’m going to take off this damn blindfold, okay?” 

“Wait! Enjolras doesn’t like—“ Courfeyrac tried to warn this kid (out of instinct), and that was when almost-too-blue eyes quickly met Courfeyrac’s gaze. 

“It’s fine. I can take away his powers,” he explained, as he gently freed Enjolras’s eyes. “Those fucking bastards.” They had blinded Enjolras, and probably had done it while he was awake and without anything to numb the pain of slashing his eyes to pieces. 

“We’ve got to get him out of here. Enjolras, is it okay if Courfeyrac picks you up?” Combeferre’s voice was worried, but he made sure to keep his voice soft as he addressed his old friend. When Enjolras signed ‘yes’, Courfeyrac swept Enjolras into his arms (and he noticed how much lighter his friend was) and they made to leave. Until they saw that the other boy, the one who obviously knew Enjolras well, wasn’t moving. 

“Aren’t you going to come?” Courfeyrac’s voice was hurried, but it lacks none of its usual kindness.

“Can I?” the boy asked, voice full of something Courfeyrac could swear was hope. “I’m Grantaire, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. Come on, let’s get out of here.” And with that, the group of four slipped out of the institution that had tortured countless people, most of them not even to their twenties.

*****

“Is he going to be okay?” Grantaire asked Courfeyrac for the fifteenth time as they paced outside of the room that currently held Joly, Combeferre, and Enjolras.

“Joly’s a healer; if he can’t help Enjolras, no one can,” Courfeyrac explained, squeezing the other boy’s hand gently. He made sure to put a little bit of extra warmth in it, because apparently it comforted people. “And Combeferre can read people’s minds, and that’s needed when treating Enjolras, because he has a nasty habit of lying about how much things hurt.”

“Right. Sorry, it’s just…” 

“You’ve been looking for each other for a while,” Courfeyrac guessed. “You never really explained what your mutation was, by the way.” 

“It’s bloody ironic, that’s what it is. My only power is that I can kind of disarm other people’s mutations, for a while,” the boy explained, wringing his hands. 

“Does that mean…” Courfeyrac said, smiling just a little bit.

“Once Enjolras trusted me enough, I could take it all away. It took a while, but eventually he took off the glasses they made him wear, and would talk to me. Well, before they… yeah.” Grantaire’s voice was soft and filled with admiration. “Have you ever heard him speak?” 

“Not for many years. He used sign language with us since he was, like, ten, or he’d let Combeferre convey what he was thinking for him,” Courfeyrac said, and now he was curious. “What does it sound like now?”

“Beautiful. It’s low and rich and strong and even when I don’t believe in anything, I believe in that voice. I believe in him.” Grantaire was so honest that Courfeyrac couldn’t help but act on the urge to hug the other boy. “He didn’t talk often, though. He was still scared that I would slip up and then he’d accidently hypnotize me.” 

“Of course he was. You should have seen how scared he was, when the mutation started developing. He didn’t know how to control it so he’d just lock himself in his room and refuse to talk or come out for anything. It was only after Combeferre started teaching him sign language and I bought him the sunglasses that he began to rejoin the world a little bit. And it hurts still, because it’s Enjolras. He’s not supposed to be scared. You know what I mean?” Courfeyrac explained. He was liking this kid more and more every minute, and talking to him eased his anxiety, as well as the probability he’d accidently set his hands on fire.

“Yeah. He’s the kind of person that should be leading a revolution to end all of this mutant prejudice,” Grantaire explained, putting his head in his hands. “I just hope he’s going to be okay. I mean, he’s been okay before, but—“ Grantaire didn’t get a chance to finish, though, because at that moment, Combeferre and Joly emerged from the bedroom.

“I did what I could. His back will be fine in a few hours, and his mouth is okay, too. It’s his eyes, though. Whatever they did to blind him, it’s not reversible.” Joly’s voice was low and sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Does the mutation still work, though?” Courfeyrac asked, and Grantaire nodded. 

“I just haven’t stopped using my mutation on him. I knew he’d need to talk, after they got the stitches out, but it’s definitely still there,” he explained, running his hands through his hair. “Can I see him?” 

“I don’t see why not. He’s not asleep, and Courfeyrac and I were going to get all of his old stuff, and probably a new pair of the sunglasses he likes,” Combeferre said, and Grantaire wasted no time in walking into Enjolras’s room. It wasn’t big, but it had a queen-sized bed that Enjolras was currently laying on his stomach in, his back already looking much better. He had his eyes screwed shut, though, and immediately Grantaire strengthened the force of his mutation against Enjolras’s.

“Hey, it’s just me. Can you open those beautiful blue eyes for me? I haven’t seen them in a while.” Grantaire kept his voice soft, and he absent-mindedly grabbed one of Enjolras’s hands, rubbing it gently with his thumb. 

_Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you_ , Enjolras signed, and Grantaire nodded before he remembered that (a) Enjolras’s eyes were closed and (b) he wouldn’t be able to see Grantaire, anyway. 

“Yeah. You can talk, too, if you want,” Grantaire then affirmed, his voice cracking a little at the end as Enjolras slowly opened his eyes. What used to be clear, piercing grey was cloudy, but they were still so incredibly gorgeous. 

“I can’t see,” was the only thing that Enjolras said, and it sounded so _heartbroken_ that Grantaire struggled to keep his anger in. Because Enjolras had never sounded like that… not after they blinded him or cut him or electrocuted him or the one time they had taped his hands together so he couldn’t even communicate. 

“Come here.” Grantaire didn’t tell Enjolras that it was going to be okay, that maybe it’d fix itself eventually, he just maneuvered himself into the bed and held Enjolras as he cried as silently as he could. Because Grantaire was getting tired, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold on to his powers much longer.

“Thank you,” was the last thing Enjolras said before he signed at Grantaire to turn off the mutation, and Grantaire did. Then Enjolras lay down literally on top of Grantaire and fell asleep. And then so did Grantaire.

*****

It took a few weeks, but Grantaire saw Enjorlas slowly become the leader of Les Amis again. And it was amazing, to see him having a signed argument with Combeferre calmly responding while Courfeyrac periodically bursting in. Combeferre didn’t want Grantaire using his mutation until they ‘strengthened’ it, which meant he’d spent the past few weeks training with Bahorel and Bousset, and not with Enjolras. It hadn’t been fun, partly because if Grantaire’s mutation didn’t work it meant he’d get a nice black eye from Bahorel’s super strength while Bousset manipulated his feelings into being exceedingly happy.

“Hey, you,” Grantaire greeted, as Enjolras sat on the kitchen counter, nursing his coffee, while Grantaire made pancakes. It was the first time since the first night that they’d been alone together, and Grantaire could tell his friend was nervous.

_Hey yourself_ Enjolras signed back, with a little grin. _How are you liking it here?_

“It’s cool. Your friends… they’re amazing. I miss you, though.” Grantaire wasn’t sure about tacking the last part on, but when Enjolras signed back that he missed him, too, he knew it was the right choice. “I’ve gotten a lot better at controlling my mutation, though. Want to try it?” 

_I don’t know. You’ve been using it a lot lately and it’s early_ he started to ramble-sign, but Grantaire cut him off by taking both of Enjolras’s hands in his own. 

“Here. It’s easier if I touch whoever I’m trying to affect. And I won’t try it on your eyes, to be safe,” he explained, and then Enjolras nodded. “Now can I hear that lovely voice of yours?” 

“Hi,” Enjolras said quietly, and Grantaire could have cried out of happiness. 

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed your voice,” Grantaire whispered back, and Enjolras leaned his forehead against the other man’s. He took his hands out of Grantaire’s and threaded them into the dark, curly hair of the brilliant man.

“Combeferre would kill us if he knew what we were doing,” Enjolras laughed. 

“What do you mean?” Grantaire asked, his voice full of faux innocence. “Making pancakes and dancing?” 

“We’re not dancing,” Enjolras said, confused, but then Grantaire turned on the small radio and cranked the volume up. It was some old, vaguely bluegrass-esque song, but Grantaire lifted Enjolras off of the counter and began spinning him around in circles, before starting to shake his hips. Eventually, Enjolras joined in. 

When the song was ending, Grantaire picked up Enjolras, who was laughing loudly and the most unreserved Grantaire had ever heard, and spun him around. 

They didn’t even notice Courfeyrac, who had stumbled into the kitchen wearing his weird Hello-Kitty boxers, and was watching them. Courfeyrac was glad for that, because it meant they couldn’t see him crying at how beautiful Enjolras’s laugh was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Review?


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